The Conjure Woman Charles W. Chesnutt (best fiction novels .TXT) đ
- Author: Charles W. Chesnutt
Book online «The Conjure Woman Charles W. Chesnutt (best fiction novels .TXT) đ». Author Charles W. Chesnutt
âI dunno ez hitâs wuf wâile ter tell you dis,â he said, at length. âI doan haâdly âspecâ fer you ter bâlieve it. Does you âmember dat club-footed man wâat hilt de hoss fer you de yuther day wâen you was gittinâ outân de rockaway down ter Mars Archie McMillanâs stoâ?â
âYes, I believe I do remember seeing a club-footed man there.â
âDid you eber see a club-footed nigger befoâ er sence?â
âNo, I canât remember that I ever saw a club-footed colored man,â I replied, after a momentâs reflection.
âYou en Misâ Annie wouldnâ wanter bâlieve me, ef I wuz ter âlow dat dat man was oncet a mule?â
âNo,â I replied, âI donât think it very likely that you could make us believe it.â
âWhy, Uncle Julius!â said Annie severely, âwhat ridiculous nonsense!â
This reception of the old manâs statement reduced him to silence, and it required some diplomacy on my part to induce him to vouchsafe an explanation. The prospect of a long, dull afternoon was not alluring, and I was glad to have the monotony of Sabbath quiet relieved by a plantation legend.
âWâen I wuz a young man,â began Julius, when I had finally prevailed upon him to tell us the story, âdat club-footed niggerâ âhis name is Primusâ âuseâ ter bâlong ter ole Mars Jim McGee ober on de Lumbeâton plank-road. I useâ ter go ober dere ter see a âoman wâat libbed on de plantation; datâs how I come ter know all erbout it. Dis yer Primus wuz de liveliesâ hanâ on de place, alluz a-dancinâ, en drinkinâ, en runninâ rounâ, en singinâ, en pickinâ de banjo; âcepânâ once in a wâile, wâen heâd âlow he waânât treated right âbout sumpân ernudder, heâd git so sulky en stubborn dat de wâite folks couldnâ haâdly do nuffin wid âim.
âIt wuz âginâ de rules fer any er de hanâs ter go âway fum de plantation at night; but Primus didnâ minâ de rules, en went wâen he felt lack it; en de wâite folks purtenâ lack dey didnâ know it, fer Primus was dangeâous wâen he got in dem stubborn spells, en deyâd ruther not fool wid âim.
âOne night in de spring er de year, Primus slipâ off fum de plantation, en went down on de Wimâlâton Road ter a dance gun by some er de free niggers down dere. Dey wuz a fiddle, en a banjo, en a jug gwine rounâ on de outside, en Primus sung en danceâ âtel âlong âbout two oâclock in de mawninâ, wâen he startâ fer home. Ez he come erlong back, he tuk a nigh-cut âcross de cottonfielâs en âlong by de aidge er de Minâal Spring Swamp, so ez ter git shet er de patteroles wâat rid up en down de big road fer ter keep de darkies fum runninâ rounâ nights. Primus was saântârinâ âlong, studyinâ âbout de good time heâd had wid de gals, wâen, ez he wuz gwine by a fence coânder, wâat shâd he heah but sumpân grunt. He stopped a minute ter listen, en he heared sumpân grunt agâin. Den he went ober ter de fence whar he heard de fuss, en dere, layinâ in de fence coânder, on a pile er pine straw, he seed a fine, fat shote.
âPrimus lookâ haâd at de shote, en den staâted home. But somehow er ânudder he couldnâ git away fum dat shote; wâen he tuk one step forâards wid one foot, de yuther foot âpeared ter take two steps backâards, en so he kepâ nachly gittinâ closeter en closeter ter de shote. It was de beatinâesâ thing! De shote des âpeared ter chaâm Primus, en fusâ thing you know Primus founâ hisseâf âway up de road wid de shote on his back.
âEf Primus had âaâ knowed whose shote dat wuz, heâd âaâ manageâ ter git pasâ it somehow er ânudder. Ez it happenâ, de shote bâlong ter a cunjuh man wâat libbed down in de free-nigger settâement. Coâse de cunjuh man didnâ hab ter wuk his roots but a little wâile âfoâ he founâ out who tuk his shote, en den de trouble begun. One mawninâ, a day er so later, en befoâ he got de shote eat up, Primus didnâ go ter wuk wâen de hawn blow, en wâen de oberseah wenâ ter look fer him, dey waâ no trace er Primus ter be âskivered nowhar. Wâen he didnâ come back in a day er so moâ, eveâybody on de plantation âlowed he had runned erway. His marster aâvertiseâ him in de papers, en offered a big reward fer âim. De nigger-ketchers fotch out dey dogs, en trackâ âim down ter de aidge er de swamp, en den de scent gun out; en dat was de lasâ anybody seed er Primus fer a long, long time.
âTwo er thâee weeks atter Primus disappearâ, his marster went ter town one Sadâday. Mars Jim was stanâinâ in front er Sandy Campbellâs bar-room, up by de ole wagon-yaâd, wâen a poâ wâite man fum down on de Wimâlâton Road come up ter âim en axâ âim, kinder keerless lack, ef he didnâ wanter buy a mule.
âââI dunno,â says Mars Jim; âit âpenâs on de mule, en on de price. Whar is de mule?â
âââDes ârounâ heah back er ole Tom McAllisterâs stoâ,â says de poâ wâite man.
âââI reckon Iâll hab a look at de mule,â says Mars Jim, âen ef he suit me, I dunno but wâat I mought buy âim.â
âSo de poâ wâite man tuk Mars Jim ârounâ back er de stoâ, en dere stood a monstâus fine mule. Wâen de mule see Mars Jim, he gun a whinny, des lack he knowed him befoâ. Mars Jim lookâ at de mule, en de mule âpeared ter be sounâ en strong. Mars Jim âlowed dey âpeared ter be sumpân fermilyus âbout de muleâs face, âspeshâly his eyes; but he hadnâ losâ naer mule, en didnâ hab no recommembâance er habinâ seed de mule befoâ. He axâ de poâ buckrah whar
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